


Amare Deorum

by Aillis



Series: Fabula Nova [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Astrals AU, Expect some botching and heavy altering of character relationships, F/F, F/M, Let me sail this Fleurentis dinghy in peace, Like a coffee shop AU but with cats and gods, Literally everybody's a god except Ignis, Luna's the best sassiest friend in existence right in front of Aranea, M/M, Minor Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum, Multi, Past Character Death, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 10:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13456236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aillis/pseuds/Aillis
Summary: The Gods of Eos once ruled comfortably close to their human subjects, though after millennia of steadily increasing their distance from the world they govern, the temptation to return grows too great.Based off a roleplay with Sweet Bae Cann





	Amare Deorum

“Why does he spend so much time down there?”

Lunafreya canted her head, watched clouds swirl over the surface of Eos, considered his question.  
“In the world? I’m not quite sure.” There was no name for the drink in her hands, merely something Noctis had conjured from them when she asked if he remembered something from the human world, a warm sweet drink they were both quite fond of, and he’d done his best to recreate the flavor from memory, quite spot on, even if not entirely the same. She took a sip, relished in its strong aroma. “Perhaps he enjoys the scenery — there’s much more to see down there.”

He shrugged in her peripheral. “Never really seemed the type to stop and smell the flowers to me,” he said, and Luna noted the indifference in his voice, the change in body language; his drink became an excuse for silence, the cup lingering at his lips far after he’d stopped sipping.

She watched him, focus alternating between Eos and the Asterian, the reflection of the sun across its waters and the way his eyes flickered across its continents. “Mother frequented the world far more often, when he was younger. As far as I am aware, she took him with her, on occasion.”

“Oh.”

“He remembers much more of it than I do, surely. I could never afford to visit too often.”

“Why not?” He shifted himself, moved to tuck a leg up close to his chest, chin resting on his knee, and the contents of his cup swirled in hand, its color changing as she attempted to recall what color its human equivalent even was, a gradient of creamy whites and chocolatey browns.

“She had her reservations,” Luna began, chewing her lip, though soon she was humming again into her cup, surprised by a sudden burst of… cinnamon, perhaps, as she remembered a smaller, different restaurant down there, and how the humans there prepared the drink instead. “I never questioned her, and even so, I’ve always had my hands full here. The number of humans I must tend to is far too large, to spare time for galivanting around on Eos.”

“That’s true.”

“Perhaps one day I will again, but I take my rest where I can get it.” And perhaps, she thought, she would have to rediscover this drink. So carried away from her original train of thought concerning its taste, by then it was hardly even the same concoction.

“He told me once that he watches them. As you do.” His expression changed, though she couldn’t quite discern how. “He tells them stories?”

“Stories?” Noctis asked, and there was humor to be found in that skeptical quirk of the brow as he looked to her again, finally. The Hecatean only smiled for a moment, took another sip, though there was no less of that odd mystery drink left in her cup to show for it.

“Yes. To children I suppose.”

“I didn’t know he liked people.”

“He doesn’t.”

It’d been a while since he moved like that — being so close to humans again was an electrifying experience for Noctis, it always was, and being on Eos once more made it difficult to curb his growing enthusiasm. 

When Lunafreya suggested he seek out her brother, he didn’t really know what to think. She was incapable of ill intentions, of that he was sure, and more than anything she likely just wanted someone there with him, to look after the trickster of a god and make certain he wasn’t causing too much mischief for their beloved people. But she had to be aware that they never got along, even outright fought at times when their ideals clashed too greatly to ignore, and neither of them cared to hide their distaste, at the worst of times. 

Noctis almost laughed at the childish scowl Ravus drew his features into, once the older god noticed his presence.

“Luna didn’t send me,” he interrupted before the question came, “but she did suggest it.” He moved in silence and sat, a small distance away, on the edge of the fountain, focus already torn away from Ravus in favor of the humans that milled about around them, the children that played and adults caught in animated conversations. 

“Consider me surprised she didn’t attempt to discourage you,” Ravus said, and turned away, “knowing full well that father of yours doesn’t want you wandering around down here.”

Was that what it was about, then? “He didn’t when I was younger, but… don’t think he cares now.” It hadn’t come up in some amount of time, at least, his frequent trips to see the humans. Regis scolded him to no end, more so whenever Noctis found himself in trouble, and needed his father to bail him out in some manner — the younger god was always too afraid of interfering in that kind of way, of exercising his powers around mortals who, for better or worse, hardly knew for certain they even existed.

Noctis turned to watch Ravus, then, and scratched at the stubble of his beard.

Luna wanted them to get along, that much was terribly clear. For her brother and closest friend to be so at odds with one another must’ve torn her apart, and even if he didn’t understand when he was younger, he refused to be a cause of any kind of grief in her life. He stood, caught Ravus’ attention then with his movements, and moved to face him head on, close enough, voice low enough, to keep just between the two of them.

“We should at least try for her, right? She wants us to.” The sudden honesty, nearly uncalled for, had obviously caught Ravus off guard; for a moment he only stared, silent, before pressing his lips together, waiting for the inevitable follow up. But Noctis just moved away, nodding for him to follow and, hands in his pockets, strolled from the fountain and off onto one of the plaza’s many diverging paths, back towards one of the roads. It wasn’t long after that he heard Ravus’ footsteps fall in line with his own.

They walked in silence, for the most part, occasionally pointing out the odd sight here and there: a couple bickering loudly at a storefront, an obnoxiously-colored vehicle racing by on the street, a line of restaurants with their doors propped open to allow the cool summer breeze inside… and the smell was driving Noctis mad in hunger.

It took a great deal of convincing, getting Ravus to pause their walk and come into the small eatery with him. They bickered even as they sat down, though quietly, their whispers of _you don’t have to get anything_ and _if you are making me stop here I might as well_ drawing a few amused stares here and there. It surprised Noctis, too, to see Ravus respond so politely to the waitress that stopped by their table, even thanking her after her bubbly, “it’ll be just a minute, y’all!” She bounced away and behind the counter, Noctis entranced by her bobbing little curls (Luna would probably love to wear her hair like that, he thought.) She stopped, paused to put a hand on a man’s shoulder, leaned in to say something before disappearing through a door behind the counter. Shortly after the man himself brought them their drinks, Noctis’ a cup of nauseatingly sweet coffee, and Ravus’ pot of white tea, plus his cup to pour it in.

“Your food will be out shortly,” he said with a nod, slight and brief, and pushed the glasses he wore further up the slim bridge of his nose before turning and sweeping back towards the counter. Ravus’ expression became… weird, and the question hovered on Noctis’ tongue, debating whether he should bother to ask — until the coffee brewer churning in the background sputtered and he turned, just in time, to see it practically _explode_. The little restaurant fell silent, interrupted by the clatter of dropped silverware and startled customers, and Noctis whirled around in his booth seat to gape at Ravus, whose eyes remained trained intently on their waiter. He stood, outright horrified by the look on his face, frozen and dripping with hot coffee, hot enough to burn probably, but he hadn’t even made a sound. The bubbly girl from before rushed from the back and nearly stumbled into him, stopped only for a moment before her fussing began, too.

“What the fuck,” Noctis said, “ _why._ ” But there was… no amusement on Ravus’ face. The other god hadn’t even bothered to look at him yet, in fact, and Noctis decided that scooting from his seat and heading to the counter was a pretty good distraction to keep him from slapping Lunafreya’s brother into the stratosphere. 

“Shit– are you okay?” He didn’t know what to do to help for a second, boots squelching in the cooling water puddling behind the counter; at some point the waitress had disappeared again, emerging with a few hand towels in her grasp and, at Noctis’ expectant look, handed him one before giving another to Ravus’ victim. 

“I–“ The man paused, inhaled slowly, silently, and removed the glasses from his face, attempted to dry them against his shirt, though with little success; he was soaked through and through, from the looks of it. He tried again. “I have had… worse.”

He moved to wipe at his face, first, with the hand towel (Noctis caught a glimpse of his name tag, ‘Ignis’ it said, as he crouched to pat at the water on the floor, avoiding touching the man’s shoes) before moving to a nearby sink, wiping down the counter, and eyeing the broken machine with no subtle amount of disdain. Noctis felt Ravus watching him but ignored him, pointedly. “Still, that was…” Something else. The Asterian bit his lip. How the hell was he gonna explain that to Luna?

“Don’t let it worry you,” Ignis insisted, and Noctis stood straight again, surveying the machine’s damage up close, then. “It was an old machine, assuredly, quite temperamental at that.”

“Pretty damn good coffee for a temperamental machine.” Ignis shot him a look, perhaps curious, perhaps unappreciative of his humor, and Noctis shrugged.

“Oooh, lookit you,” the girl said – Cindy, her tag read – and she stepped forward, practically chest to chest with the man, on her toes as she fussed with his hair, still damp and taking on the scent of burnt coffee grounds. “What’d I tell ya ‘bout hittin’ that darned thing?”

“I am aware,” he said, quite sharply, “that _hitting_ it does not make it work any more properly. The blasted thing was on its last leg for a long time, Cindy. There are only so many times one can fix an old machine before it’s more practical to simply purchase a replacement.” She seemed to take offense to that almost, practically pouting; Ignis wasn’t a tad phased by the towel she whipped at his chest.

“Well, oughta now that we ain’t got a machine to work with.” And finally she turned to acknowledge Noctis’ presence again, and good thing, too, because he felt kind of weird standing there listening to their banter like some kind of… weirdo. “Thank ya kindly, hon – you go on an’ sit. Food’s gonna be out in a sec, ‘kay?”

He nodded, ducked from behind the counter and, when he returned to the booth, Ravus was stirring his tea, staring into the cup. He didn’t say a word.


End file.
